


You're Enough

by goingtothetardis



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: (No sexy times), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Naked Cuddling, Nightmares, Post-Episode: s01e06 Dalek, Prompt Fic, Romance, The Doctor is naked
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-28
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2019-01-06 12:31:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12211353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goingtothetardis/pseuds/goingtothetardis
Summary: The Doctor is in the middle of a shower when he's interrupted by Rose's panicked screaming.





	You're Enough

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chiaroscuroverse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chiaroscuroverse/gifts).



> I saw the main prompt for this fic last night on DoctorRosePrompts on tumblr, and [I had to write it](https://doctorroseprompts.tumblr.com/post/165673589918/rose-wakes-from-a-nightmare-absolutely) IMMEDIATELY. I also realized it would be a perfect way to fill Chiaroscuroverse's prompt for my 800 Followers Fic Giveaway thing, so I worked that in as well: "A gentle "I love you" whispered after a soft kiss, followed immediately by a stronger kiss."
> 
> If you're the person who prompted this on DoctorRosePrompts, I'd love to know if you like it. :) I tweaked the original prompt just slightly, but I think it works better this way. 
> 
> Unbeta'd, so please excuse any mistakes.

Kicking off his boots, the Doctor peels of his jumper and jeans, shucking them to the side as he walks to his ensuite. The TARDIS, bless her, has a hot shower waiting for him, and he steps onto the tiled floor and under the nozzle. He sighs in relief as the almost too hot water pounds against his back, and for a moment, he simply stands in place, rolling his shoulders as the water works to relax his tense muscles. 

Today’s adventure with Rose had been… traumatic for everyone involved. 

_A Dalek._ Alive, having somehow escaped the confines of the Time War, and just as horrifying and destructive as ever. 

And then he thought he’d lost Rose, yet another victim of a Dalek’s indifferent violence: killed needlessly for not being fast enough, killed simply for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. His own fault, as per usual; the unfortunate consequence of being a companion of the Doctor. Blood boiling, he thinks of that stupid ape Adam, and how he’d so selfishly left Rose behind. He doesn’t even feel bad for wishing it’d been Adam stuck behind the bulkhead.

The Doctor’s hearts beat faster as the memories of that moment crash into his mind –– the way his hearts had broken when, even at the end, Rose had begged him not to blame himself; the cry of the Dalek’s _”EXTERMINATE!”_ , made infinitely worse thinking Rose had been at the receiving end of it; the way his hearts had turned to lead thinking she was dead –– and he turns to face the water, running his hands down his face until they hang at his sides, clenched in anger. 

Squeezing his eyes shut under the spray of water, he holds his breath, trying to shove the memories away in a dark corner of his mind. He never wants to experience the horror of imagining Rose’s dead body ever again. She’s alive. She’s _alive_ and sleeping in her bed just down the corridor. As he repeats the words over and over again in his mind, the TARDIS sends waves of comfort toward him, reminding him of these facts. She’s so very alive.

Rose’s compassion had saved them all – well, not quite everyone – and he takes another deep, strangled breath as his thoughts derail for a moment while thinking of all the lives lost today. 

Her compassion had saved her life in front of that closed bulkhead and had made a _Dalek_ question its own existence. And in the end, it had followed her orders. Rose Tyler, giving orders to a Dalek. He never thought he’d see the day. 

_“WHAT GOOD ARE EMOTIONS IF YOU WILL NOT SAVE THE WOMAN YOU LOVE?”_ The onslaught of memories resumes against his mind, unrelenting like the water pounding against his body. This comment from the Dalek had been ignored in the moment, but it comes back to him now. 

_The woman he loves?_ The irony of it strikes him, then, and he barks out a humorless laugh. A Dalek had seen what he’d been trying to deny to himself in all the months Rose had been by his side. _The woman he loves…_

Any further contemplation of the matter is cut short when a shrill scream pierces the air. 

He can’t help but cry out her name in response. _”Rose!”_ When the Doctor hops out of the shower, another cry reaches his ears, this time accompanied with a broken sob, and his only thought is to get to Rose as soon as possible. Without grabbing a towel, he sprints from his room, sighing in relief when he finds hers immediately opposite his. An errant thought is spent begging the TARDIS to keep Adam far, far away from this corridor, and her hum of confirmation makes him want to kiss a wall in relief. 

He spares a brief moment to knock, but when a muffled cry echoes through the door, he pushes it open and runs inside. The TARDIS has filled the room with a dim light, just enough for him to see Rose thrashing from side to side in her bed. 

In a few long strides, he’s beside her, leaning over her distressed form. “Rose. Rose.” When she still doesn’t stir, he reaches a hand out and places it on her forehead. “Rose, wake up. It’s me, it’s the Doctor. I’m here,” he soothes in a low, calm voice. 

Her eyes fly open with a gasp, and after her gaze connects with his, she flings herself up and into his arms, pulling him down onto her bed. The Doctor allows himself to fall, willing to do anything it takes to keep her nightmares at bay, and he eventually settles in a seated position on her covers, his long legs spread out in front of him, and pulls her into his lap. Rose curls into his chest and pulls him close, wrapping one arm around his neck and the other around his torso. For several moments, he holds her close as her shuddering breaths even out. One of his hands threads loosely through her mess of blonde hair, and he whispers simple words of comfort against her ear. 

“Doctor, it killed you. The Dalek. An’ I couldn’t…” Her voice wavers as a broken sob escapes, and the beat of her heart increases against his chest. “An’ I couldn’t… I couldn’t stop it. It killed you.”

“Shhh, it didn’t kill me, Rose. I’m here, right here. It didn’t kill you either,” he says, reminding himself of the same thing. “It’s gone, Rose. They’re all gone.”

“Doctor…” Rose breathes into his chest and clings to him even tighter. “I can’t lose you, Doctor. I can’t.”

He can’t lose her either, he thinks to himself, but he’s too much of a coward to admit that outloud. Instead of speaking, he places a soft kiss to her forehead, and allows the comfort of his touch to bring her some measure of peace. 

The hand on his back starts running up and down, and the one around his neck begins a similar exploration down the front of his chest. He bites back a groan, but can’t help but lean into her touch. 

“Doctor?” Rose asks after a moment, her voice high-pitched and curious. “Are you wearing clothes?”

He freezes. _Oh bugger._

When Rose’s screams had reached his ears, all other thoughts, including his modesty, had fled his mind. His only concern had been to get to Rose as soon as possible. 

“Well, not as such, no,” he answers after a beat. 

Rose stills, and there’s a distinctive shift of emotions in the room. Her breath hitches, and he can almost hear her mind churning with questions when she looks up at him with flushed cheeks. “Why aren’t you wearing clothes?”

There are many ways he can answer this, but sarcasm and sass are easy crutches. “Well, it _is_ customary for one to be without clothes when one is showering,” he answers, looking down at her with a smirk. 

The flush on her cheeks deepens. “Oh,” she says, biting her lower lip. “So why’d you come in here completely starkers?” She shifts on his lap, then, the movement subtle and casual, but her bum brushes against a part of him that up until now, had been quite uninterested in current events. Cursing inwardly, he wills his hormones under control. Now is _not_ the time for such… indecent and entirely inappropriate thoughts… and physiological reactions. Time Lord, him. Self-control and restraint are as easy as breathing.

“You were having a nightmare,” he says simply. “Nothing else mattered, includin’ covering up. If it makes you uncomfortable, I can leave.” He moves to shift Rose off his lap, but to his surprise, she digs her feet into her bed and wraps her arms around his chest. 

When she tucks her head against him, he can feel the heat of her flushed face. “No,” she whispers, the slight edge to her voice enough to remind him of the reason he’d come here in the first place. “Please stay. Please.” One of her arms relaxes and strokes softly down his back until it rests on his hip, and, if he’s not mistaken, her lips ghost over the muscled planes of his chest. 

The Doctor doesn’t move, and the seconds pass in agonizing precision as the unspoken meaning of her words and actions register with his hearts. The heat of her body through her thin jimjams sets him on fire, and suddenly, it’s all a bit much to take in. What she’s implying is… impossible. She’s so young and innocent, and he’s ancient and damaged: the Destroyer of Worlds and his own people. 

“Rose, I–” He what? For once, words fail him, and he’s not quite what sure Rose sees in his eyes when she meets his gaze. Hers soften in understanding, and for several moments, the air between them sparks with tension. 

Once more, the Dalek’s words flit unbidden through his mind. _“What good are emotions if you will not save the woman you love?”_ Yes, it’s true, he admits. He loves her. But to tell her would certainly set the Universe’s unkind wrath against them, and he will not subject them – subject _her_ – to that. 

Rose makes the first move, then, as the timelines hang on a precipice. She lifts a hand to caresses his cheek, then traces the outline of his ear before moving down his jaw, sending sparks of electricity zinging down his spine… and elsewhere. It returns to the back of his neck and gently tugs his head down to hers, and the fingers on his back squeeze into his flesh as she presses her lips against his. It’s soft and tentative, a little bit unsure, and her nose squishes into his cheek in a way he finds rather endearing. He doesn’t pull away but allows her to set the pace of the kiss. After a moment, she pulls back, breathless and flushed. 

“I love you,” she whispers into his shoulder, and it’s so quiet, even his impressive ears almost miss the significance of her words. 

He can’t say the words back, even though he feels them in his hearts, foreign and fantastic all at once. Instead of answering with words, however, he groans slightly, then threads his fingers through her hair to cup the back of her head before tilting his head down to meet her lips. This time, he leads the kiss, and she gasps in surprise at the intensity with which he consumes her mouth. 

Without pulling her lips from his, Rose shifts, swinging one leg around to straddle him, and he moans into her mouth when the heat of her core brushes lightly against him. She doesn’t press, however, simply content to continue exploring each other with lips and hands in a more comfortable position, and for that he’s grateful. 

Flicking his tongue out, he deepens the kiss, squeezing her closer when she follows his lead, before moving lips along her jaw, tracing the same path Rose took earlier with her fingers on his on face. His breath puffs against her ear, and she shivers beneath him. Finally, he places a soft kiss at the corner of each eye, and rests his forehead against hers. 

“I can’t–” he starts, not sure how to continue. 

Rose places two fingers over his lips. “I know,” she murmurs. “You’re enough.”

He hopes he is.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me at goingtothetardis.tumblr.com!


End file.
